The capsule, as a concept, may evoke a medicinal pill—an object designed to carry substances into the body. It is an idea that Chilean artist Florencia Pozo explores in her work. In conversation with her, we approach a perspective in which the capsule becomes a vessel for meaning, emotion, and memory. She proposes to “reinhabit” this everyday object, transforming it into a point of encounter between material and immaterial, body and spirit, repetition and ritual.
What led you to think that a capsule could contain more than a chemical substance?
Capsules are everyday containers whose essential function is to carry their contents into the human body. In this way, they make it possible—both symbolically and empirically—to place any object inside them and begin a journey toward immersion.
What connections did you find in it as a physical container and as an emotional symbol?
As a container, it carries its content into the body, extending into the emotional and spiritual plane. We are mind, body, and spirit, and medicine seeks balance among these three dimensions. A word or symbol reaches the brain directly, awakens emotions, and it is those emotions that heal. Disciplines such as neurolinguistics study the relationship between language and the brain.
What does the idea of “reinhabiting the concept of the human” mean?
I believe that the concept of the human invites us to rethink and become aware of what it means to inhabit—as a spiritual being within a body, and from that body, to inhabit a space. In this way, an ecosystem is created where the relationship between the image of the human and the concept of the world becomes visible, revealing, in contrast, the immaterial contained within matter.
What is the challenge of materializing an emotional charge into an object?
It is the daily challenge of every artist, because it requires finding symbols and archetypes that clearly communicate the human experience. Artistic construction brings together recognizable signifiers—images or words—to shape an emotional and intellectual message.
In my work, the capsule, understood as remedy and healing, combined with positive words, becomes “remedies for the soul.” The goal is to transform the intangible into art, offering the viewer a sensory experience that allows the message to be internalized and felt. The challenge lies in making the personal something public.
What was the first capsule you created, and what did it contain, both literally and symbolically?
I began working with capsules in 2002, during my studies at the University of Chile, and I remember that one of the first works I created included a copy of a drawing of a head that I had made.
How do you decide which emotion or concept deserves to be encapsulated?
I prefer to speak of encapsulating rather than compressing. More than deciding on an emotion, it simply arrives. My process is less mental and more sensory when constructing a piece. I try to connect with the moment and listen to what it reveals. It’s important to leave space for the muses.
Where does the importance of the handmade gesture lie in contrast to the industrial or reproducible?
For me, working by hand is essential. Even if repetition in my work may appear industrial, I need each capsule to remain unique among its equals. I write everything by hand, cut everything by hand, encapsulate, roll, and assemble everything by hand. The hand produces error—and to err is human.
What role does repetition play in your practice?
Repetition validates rhythm, structure, and frequency—and that is what my work is about. It can take the form of repeating a thousand positive words, like a mantra or a prayer, or the sequence of a figure turning 360 degrees, evoking a kind of spiritual, tribal trance.
Repetition builds a structure that forms both a physical and energetic body. Music works in the same way: note by note, rhythm by rhythm, it creates frequencies. Like one cell alongside another, connected, forming a body. Rhythm is the origin, the act of creation—it is the echo of moving along a path.
How does text influence the development of each series?
The words I encapsulate are chosen intuitively, guided by sensation in the moment as I build each piece. In some series, I create “recipes” that respond to what I am absorbing at that time.
To understand the origin of this, I have collected a list of positive words over the years, simply by listening to people. This is how series like Remedios para el alma and Recetas para el alma came to life—when one day I asked myself how many positive words there could be. I never imagined there would be so many.
It became a kind of life lesson: we tend to emphasize the negative, yet there is actually very little of it. Writing each capsule by hand, word by word, has become a meditative practice.
IG. @florencia.pozo
